I Need You to Bleed For Me
by I Am Fagin
Summary: At age nine, Freyja was a warrior and a savage queen to be. And in all her one thousand, she never stopped being a savage or a warrior. Even Godric, her maker's maker, her only love, couldn't stop her. Perhaps that's why the Fellowship of the Sun murdered her. Godric/OC Eric/OC (Minor.) Warnings: Multiple character deaths, sex sexual themes, violence.


_**893 AD**_

Sibbi was much like the rest of his family; tall, blond and too well muscled – his shoulders were almost twice as wide as her own broad ones. He was neither attractive nor unattractive on the whole, though his cold grey eyes verged on beautiful. His hands, however, left much to be desired she noted as his left one reached out for hers, massive and heavily scarred with his ring finger amiss, probably lost in one battle or another.

"Will you except?" he asked in Swedish, the only tongue they knew.

Ingunn was silent for a moment or two, considering her options. She did not want to marry, not now, not ever, but she knew that one day, she would have to. Sibbi was not so bad, he was kind to her, and let her battle just as she always had, unlike most other men she knew. He would not force her to have children too soon either. In all her village, Sibbi seemed to be the best choice.

"Yes," Ingunn replied, singing her fate as her long fingered hand slipped into his. Sibbi grinned, his pale eyes sparkling in delight. Ingunn smiled back, though nowhere as near as enthusiastically; finally she had done something that would please her mother.

"To Sigbjörn Thjodarrson and Ingunn Kolbrandrdottir!" Thjodarr, Sibbi's father, shouted from behind them, announcing their engagement to the entire clan. Sibbi tugged her forward by the hand he held in his grasp and pressed his lips hard against hers. Her first kiss. It was nothing like how all the women she had heard talking about it had said. She didn't melt, didn't swoon, just stood there and let him give a show for all the people gathered around them. When he let her go, she took a step back and looked to the ground, letting her long blonde hair separate her face from the crowd, pretending that she was hiding a blush.

Her father, Kolbrandr, hurried into the circle that people had made around the newly engaged couple and grabbed his only child's arm, smiling at both Thjodarr and Sibbi before tearing her away.  
"Why?" he hissed as he dragged her all the way back to their hut at the end of the village. "Why would you do this to me? I meant to make you a star, Ingunn, you would be the reason so many armies fear us! But I can't present you as the reincarnation of Freyja now! Not if you're getting married? Why?"  
He was furious, it would have been hard to ignore how much so, thus Ingunn kept her reply to no more than a murmur; "To please Mother."  
Her father turned to glare at her, but said nothing more on the subject; he would not dare try to argue with that reasoning.

_**** I Need You to Bleed For Me ****_

_**895 AD**_

"Freyja!" Ingunn span around to face away from the outside world and back to the man she would be married to as he called the name that was not her own, but the one that had been given to her little more than a year ago, the one that everyone now called her, having forgotten the girl she used to be. She was no longer the oddity, engaged to be married but refusing to, a warrior but a woman. Now she was a goddess reincarnated into a human form, she was the goddess of beauty, lust and death.

As for the first two, she largely disagreed; she was little more, if any, than average looks wise, and had only ever slept with one man in her thirteen years. Death, however, was fitting. Having killed more men than the rest of her army added together, multiplied by ten. She really was death incarnate, and was about to battle again.

"Freyja," Sibbi said again, this time much softer, taking her hands in his. The look on his face portrayed concern, meant to make her at ease, but instead in just made butterflies flutter in her stomach in anxiety.  
"Yes, Sibbi?" she asked, trying to remove her hands from his without making it obvious. He rolled his grey eyes and stared at her.  
"Please Freyja, one day I will be king of this clan, you must start calling by my name." _Like you do me? _Freyja's mind spat out at him bitterly, but instead of saying such things, Ingunn only smiled apologetically.  
"I'm sorry, Sigbjörn." Sibbi smiled back in reply and kissed one of her scarred hands, then his expression turn serious again.  
"Please do not make this harder than it already is, my love," he muttered against her hand. Ingunn ripped her hand from his, eyes growing wide as panic flushed through her, she knew that tone. No, he couldn't be asking her to do this, he told her he never would!  
"No," she snapped before he had even asked her. "No!" Sibbi snatched out for her hands as they went to pull at her hair.  
"Please Freyja!"  
"You're a liar!" she accused, trying to pull away, but his grip was too tight. "You told me, you _promised_ me you wouldn't do this!"  
"I know, but I didn't think all five of my older brothers would die!" Tears started to well in his eyes and Ingunn stopped struggling, instead staring at his pale face.  
"I'm so sorry, but I need you to stop fighting. I need you to marry me. I need you to produce me an heir." Sibbi let her hands fall. She stared at him a second, before turning, grabbing her sword and dashing out of the door into the early morning sun.

_**** I Need You to Bleed For Me ****_

One the battlefield, there was no such person as Ingunn Kolbrandrdottir, but Freyja couldn't remember when there ever had been. Sword in her right hand, the weight of it kept her grounded, kept her from killing the allies at her back as well as the enemies before her. Without it all would be dead, lost in the bloodlust, the insanity of war. Looking at the oncoming warriors, Freyja thought that one day, maybe, even her sword wouldn't be able to keep her sane and Ingunn would die completely.

As their enemies reached them, Freyja loosened the grip on her sword, ready to slice into the first man – and it would be a man, no doubt, she was the only female warrior – that came within her extended reach.

And indeed it did. Men fell about her in droves, dead or dying, their weaponry lying uselessly by their sides. None of her clan were around her now, all deep in the mists of their own battles. For a moment, there was a lag in the onslaught of her would be murderers and she got a look at the battle as a whole. They had managed to force the enemy back a good few paces, and tens if not hundreds of them littered ground. The field under her feet that had once been golden was now glistening red with blood.

A flash of pain down her left arm alerted Freyja to the danger she had been ignoring. By the looks of the man who welded the weapon that shone with her blood, the hit had been off, she doubted she would still be standing if it hadn't. In one swift motion, the man – or more of a boy really, but still older than her – was left without his fighting arm. He stood frozen as she lifted her arm again, striking to kill.

"No!" the man-boy cried, holding his surviving hand above his face. "Have mercy!" With any other girl, he may have had a chance, but Freyja had no mercy, not even for children. As her blade slid through his flesh, piercing his heart, Freyja saw Sibbi standing opposite her, his sword stuck in the man-boy as well. A smile curled her lips.

But only for a second before his head was falling to the ground, followed shortly by the rest of his body.

Freyja sucked in a surprised breath before a hugely tall man was angling his sword at her. She blocked swiftly and slammed the hilt of her sword into his gut. She had expected him to double forward in pain, but instead his knee came up to slam into her stomach. She stumbled back, as much to gather her strength again as anything else.

"Retreat!" A voice she didn't recognise screamed. Must have been from the other clan. All the same, she rushed forward, sword poised to kill, but he easily deflected her and got ready to strike himself.

"ERIC!" the voice came again, and the tall man paused, looking around for the caller. It was the perfect chance, the perfect shot. Freyja tightened her grip, ready to change but then the man was gone, dashing off the way he had came. Freyja stared off after him, debating running before noticing the wound she had gotten earlier was still not healed. Her vision began to blur and then falter completely. She felt her knees hitting the ground, and nothing else.

_**** I Need You to Bleed For Me ****_

Ingunn felt hands lift her up felt fingers propping at her wounds. Her eyes flickered open, focussing instantly on a figure in the line of trees, illuminated through the darkness by his pale skin.

And then she slept.

_**** I Need You to Bleed For Me ****_

The bitter wind howled in the trees around the two-roomed cottage. From the centre of the roof, tails of grey smoke were stark against the black sky, dusted with twinkling stars. Ragna pulled her furs closer about her chilled body as she continued up the twisting dirt path to the cottage. It was far removed from the main village, easily an hour's walk on a night like this. The tree on either side of hers bent in the wind, their leafless braches fingers grabbing for her when she wasn't watching. Though it was well within sight now, Ragna feared she would die of the cold before she reached the cottage. Why Lady Auda had insisted she travel tonight was beyond Ragna's understanding, but still she had left without complaint, carrying little but a small sewing set. She had been picked to serve Lady Freyja because of her emotional understanding, something very few girls of her age - and even a few years older – had, and it was something absolutely necessary for the servants of warriors. Normally men were the servants were the to warriors, but normally warriors were men too. And Lady Freyja was no such thing.

Suddenly, a distinctly wolf howl pierced through the night air, and Ragna hurried her pace.

Upon reaching the cottage, Ragna knocked once, twice, but received no answer. Knowing it would not put her in good standing with her new mistress, but fearing for her life outside with the icy air leeching her body of its heat, she entered quietly, closing the door behind her.

In the middle of the first room, sat what seemed to have been a fire, but had burnt out, only a few steaming coals remaining. Clearly not the source of the smoke. The room itself was remarkably sumptuous for that of a warrior, as well paid of Lady Freyja must have been. The entire floor was covered in tick animal furs that looked so soft, Ragna debated removing her worn out old boots and walking bare feet. The walls were just the normal stone of all the cottages in the area, pale grey and stacked together in the hope that they would stay standing, but beautiful tapestries hung from them, depicting sense from one myth or another. Ragna thought she recognised one on the far wall depicting Thor throwing Mjöllnir at a man who appeared to be Loki, who was clutching long threads of golden hair.

Having become lost in the luxuries of the room – luxuries, she noted even Lady Auda, the richest of all the nobles in the village, could not afford – Ragna shook her head and went to the door on the far side of the room. This time when she knocked, a small grumble came as a reply which she took to mean she could enter. Pushing open the door slightly, she saw this room noticed was far warmer than the first, the source of which she saw as she pushed the door open further, was a blazing fire in the centre of the room by which Lady Freyja sat, staring into it like she was the Norns and this was her well. Her face glowed orange in the firelight and eyes burned yellow. She didn't move as Ragna entered, kept her eyes locked onto the flames as they reached out, grasping the air in their blazing fingers and bringing it back to the core.

"Lady Freyja?" Ragna called out softly, hoping Lady Freyja would notice her now. She stood in silence for a second as Freyja continued to stare into the fire. Just as Ragna was about to repeat herself, Lady Freyja stopped her.  
"Ingunn," was all she said, not moving her gaze by even the smallest of amounts.  
"Pardon, Lady Freyja?" Ragna asked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Perhaps Lady Freyja thought her name was Ingunn?" Finally, Lady Freyja's eyes rounded on her, an exasperated look shining in them.  
"My name is Ingunn, and I am no Lady."

Ragna was silent at that, not knowing what she could possibly say. For what felt like an age, she stood in the doorway, unmoving as a statue, freezing. Finally, Lady Freyja – Ingunn – glanced up to her again, and motioned for her to sit beside her. Ragna jumped at the chance, dashing around to sit by her side. The warmth of the fire soaked into her skin, slowly thawing out her frozen flesh, her frost-bitten bones. It took a while to notice Ingunn was staring at her. A blush burned her cheeks, and she pulled her furs closer to her skin, willing herself to become so small that Ingunn's penetrating gaze couldn't catch her.

"Those furs look thin. There are more in the corner, you can have them. I don't need then anymore." There was something in her tone of her final sentence, something guilty, something sad. All the same, Ragna stood, not wanting to disobey her new mistress, an walked over to the corner with the piles and piles of thick, lavish furs, not a patchwork of wild dog like hers, but cut from bears, wolves, elk. She picked up the first one and threw it around her shoulders, instantly much warmer than she had been before. She regained her seat by the fire, suddenly tired, and waited for Ingunn to want to sleep.

Not too long after, whilst Ragna was about to fall asleep, Ingunn stood and made her away over to another pile of furs, far more organised. She climbed into her bed of furs Ragna took that as an indication that she, too, had permission to go to bed and curled up around the fire.

"What's your name?" Ingunn asked suddenly, sounding as if she might fall asleep any moment.  
"Ragna," Ragna replied and was answered by nothing but the sounds of a crackling fire and the slow, steady breathing of a woman asleep. Her eyes fell closed, and she let sleep claim her.

_**** I Need You to Bleed For Me ****_

Ingunn awoke to the sounds of chittering teeth. She sat up and blinked, letting her eyes find Ragna's shivering body still beside the dead fire, not even one coal still glowing. Clearly the chittering was coming from her.  
"Ragna," she called. "Ragna!" The sleeping girl sat up abruptly and whipped around to face her, her blue eyes glowing in the dark.  
"You're cold, sleep in here with me." The girl hesitated, then stood and shuffled her way over to Ingunn's bed of fur. Ingunn through back her upper layers of fur and the younger girl climbed in.  
"How old are you Ragna?" Ingunn asked quietly, letting her eyes fall closed.  
"Eleven." Ingunn smiled into the darkness.  
"Only two years younger than me then." Ragna said nothing more, and Ingunn fell into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
